Forever Waiting
by goldiechik
Summary: Rated M to be safe.


Late at night I find myself reaching for you in the empty space beside me only to realize that you've been long gone. Just as you've been for the past nineteen years. My marriage to Ronald had ended but we share custody of the children. Yes, I have long since taught Ron all about muggle law. I confess he found it confusing at first, more so than arithimacy. I told him that the thought was ridiculous and he just shrugged and scratched his head like he always does. I also confess that it was your reaction that I was expecting instead of his befuddled one. As well as your snarky response as well.

_Flashback:_

_His face was blank and gave nothing away as to what his thougths were. His dark intense haze held her attention making her slight afraid to look away for fear of punishment. His face gave off a hollowed appearance from the many dark biddings of the Dark Lord's service. Dark circles evident under his eyes revealing the insomnia he suffered since Albus' death. The fact that he was tall and thin did not help his presentation by giving the impression that he was malnourished for several months, if even still. His clothes were shaby and faded to a dull gray color when they would have been black. Sporting holes and badly mended tears from jinxes and curses that stuck his person. One particular tear was recently made with dried blood as evidence seemed to be his own curse. Sectumsempra. Only this seemed more modified to inflict more damage. I knew immediately who was the cause of it. Dolohov. Slytherins. Devious to the end. _

_"Its with remarkable stroke of luck how all of human kind still exist with such complications residing in both societies, its a wonder how things get accomplished at all"_

_I find the recollection somewhat humorous now. It was such a typical response from you. You, who lived to make potions less complicated, proved fact by your old Advanced Potions book from your Hogwarts years. The Draught of Living Death. . . it sent unpleasant memories my way. _

I lay in the dark all by my lonesome fingering whats left of your old teaching robes. Flashes of you disappearing around a corner as your cloak billows behind you and your sneering face ever fixated pop to mind.

Page 394.

Ha, silly thought.

If I concentrate hard enough I can smell the residue of your aroma lingering in the air. The preservation spell I made evidently still works. Small wonders. Should I say I've been caught by Ron smelling your robes? Only it was illusioned to look like my father's coat. I forgot to mention that he died not too long after the wat from lingering effects of the dark curses inflicted on him. Bellatrix. Damn her. Ron always believed I still mourned my parents loss, love. My mother sits in my favorite chair in their house. Never moving. Never living. Eventually she died of starvation.

I'm a Spell Mistress now, Severus. Did you know that? Do they allow you insight of us down here in heavien? I hope so.

Sometimes I can still feel your hands wandering my body, exploring each crevice and valley, claiming them as yours. You were always a possesive, inanely jealous man, Severus. For good reason it seems as I recollect Draco's attempted seduction at Malfoy Manor.

I watch the hands on the clock slowly tick by as I recall our first and last night together. Four days before your inevitable fate we spent in each other. I scoff at the thought. Such romantic dribble. Nonsense, you would say. 'Such sentamentality as to be expected from a Gryffindor'. This saddens me.

I almost forgot, Harry's youngest son is off to Hogwarts soon. His name is Albus Severus Potter. Blasphemy, isn't it? Though the child does both his namewsakes good. As meddlesome as Dumbledore but the cunning of a Slytherin. With the typical 'Potter temperment' in your book. If you did not know, Harry has three children. Not yet past the Weasley brood numbers yet as you would expect. his oldest is typically named, James Sirius Potter. As michievious as namesake. the youngest is a girl. I believe Lily is her name. She does not have her eyes, but young Albus does. The only one of the children to have her eyes.

Have you made your peace with her, Severus?

In the afterlife? I hope so. I would hate four you to be alone in your wait for me to be at your side. So company would do you good, despite you opinion.

It pains me to think of your portrait at Hogwarts in McGonagall's office, yes she is the Headmistress now. he retains all knowledge and memories prior to your death. He is you but not you at the same time. Rose inquiries after you much of the thime since she has developed a interest in Potions much to her father's displeasure. Hugo takes after Ronald except much more academic and wiser.

Thunder drones across the sky like a drum roll. I look at the time in what moonlight still shines and find it to be midnight. I would say happy anniversary, Severus, except this is not a joyous occasion. It is the anniversary of your death, heart. I can still hear your last words echo in my mind, as much as it pains me to know you still loved her more than I. The thought that you were addressing me crosses my mind but does not take root. I don't allow it to. The lifeless eyes that were once yours haunt, dearest.

Almost as much as the secret I am reluctant to tell you even now nineteen years later.

Although it is the day of your death I have deadlines to meet. Such as my snake repelling spell are being submitted. It's the least I can do for you.

(memory)

"Severus, are you sure?"

"Yes"

Lips met hesitantly but became increasingly sure as moments passed. Becoming more heated , demanding and crazied in frantic need. Months of jesting led up to this moment. Hands racing across skin leaving a burning trail. Lust was evident. Clothes long discarded, they both came together fitting together perfectly. One was getting impatient from what the bouncing tool told.

The rest of the night was a passion frenzy, lost virtue evidence to the lustful onslaught. The next morning was tense and awkward and formalities back in place. No one knew of their correspondence. No one. (end)

. . .

It happened, Severus, it finally happened. I lost concentration for a moment as I worked on a curse repelling spell with more effieciency. Its been months since I last talked to you on the day of your death. Four years to be exact. I am now 40 and doomed to die in just a few hours. Healers tried everything to find a cure but to no avial. It's ok though. Its ok. I'll finally be home. With you . . . though I don't have your heart I have your affection and that is enough.

(Memory)

He reached his peak as he strained into her catching the last quivering before all was still. Both panted with extertion.

"I love you"

The other looks into their eyes, " I know"

(End)

I believe I can finally tell you what haunts me so terribly, Severus. You're a father. Of two. Eileen Sophie Snape and Tobias Andronicus Snape. Both are excellent potioneers and live in London. The twins were extremely sadden by my accident but are somewhat appeased by the thought that I'll be joining you. Ron has agreed to make sure they don't get into too much trouble. Twenty two years old and they are perfect replicas of you albeit Eileen looks like myself and Tobias you. There was a third child but he died in childbirth. Triplets became twins. And Severus, he looked just like you.

I love you, Severus. Though I am alive and you are dead but hot for much longer. I say goodbye now while I have the last few minutes of life left. Goodbye for now.

Just as the last breath leaves her body a deep voice softly speaks, "I love you and I wait for you my love"

The four children of Hermione Weasley stand at the their mother's grave, expending their grief and not believing that their mother's spell once intended for defense led to her death. By slowly draining her of life and sending it to Hell. If not purgatory. Ironic the spell was named " May God Forgive You"

In the bowels of Hell a woman cowarded from the flames as His voice kept hope alight.

"I wait for you, my love"

Eternity couldn't be any longer.


End file.
